Elder Scrolls: The City of Legends
by eaglescorch
Summary: When offered untold wealth, power, and knowledge, the Dragonborn sets out on a treasure hunt in search of a mythical dwarven city. Along the way he must contend with a ruthless Thalmor Commander who seeks the treasure to further his own agenda. An agenda that could turn all of Tamriel to embers and ash. (ON INDEFINITE HIATUS)
1. A Lucrative Offer

All right, here we go. First Elder Scrolls story. I'm not entirely sure what the standard is for these types of fics, but I do know it's not the same as Fallout. So bear with me until I can get a rhythm going, so to speak. I hope this entertains, the type of Dragonborn I picked is a bit of an odd choice as you'll come to see, but again, please bear with me and offer constructive criticism to help me improve. I have an odd feeling I will need it.

* * *

Chapter 1

A Lucrative Offer

The disguised Daedric Prince Sanguine sat at a small table at the inn in Dawnstar, waiting for a very special guest. He was on his fifth mug of ale and was going through it the same way an elephant drank water through it's trunk, in reckless amounts and without so much as a thought to those around them. It was nice and frothy with a sort of bold and bitter taste and considering Sanguine's position, he was quite the connoisseur.

Then the door swung open and a High Elf entered the inn. He was dressed in Ancient Falmer Armor, some kind of fancy looking bow slung over his shoulder, and tattoos decorating on his face. His expression resembled one that had seen great conflict, but he seemed kinder then most. Vastly kinder then his Thalmor counterparts in the Summerset Isles. The Nords in the room first gazed with suspicion, then they looked with joy as they realized who he was. He was elderly, his face wrinkled with a long white beard and long white hair, pale as the snow that lay on the ground outside. He seemed wise, kindly, like a grandfather gazing down on his children. He didn't seem to be violent, though the bow was intimidating and the armor was burned.

"Show off." Sanguine snarled at the almost messianic appearance of the man. "Saved the world and now he thinks he owns it. Give me a break." The showoff in question had gone by many names over the many years he had been alive. In Elsywer for example, he was known as the Scarred One, in the Summerset Isles, he was called the Insurgent Philosopher, and in Skyrim he was known as the Last Dragonborn. His real name was Kane, Listener of the Dark Brotherhood, Harbinger of the Companions, Arch-Mage of the College of Winterhold, Guild Master of the Theives Guild, and about a dozen other things, but he always preferred to just be called Kane.

Kane scanned the room, spotted Sanguine, and walked over to the table. The Barmaiden had just delivered two flagons of Nord Mead, on the house for Kane and Sanguine, who were old drinking bodies so to speak. They had there differences to be sure, but overall they were friends, even though one was a Daedric Prince and the other a Dragonborn, or rather the last if prophecy was to be believed.

"Ah, Kane, good to see you again old friend." Sanguine said, dropping his earlier frustrations. He shook hands with the High Elf.

"The pleasure's all mine, old friend." Kane replied, half-sarcastically and half-genuinely using the word friend. He picked up the flagon and took a swig of the fresh mead. "Ah, nothing like the taste of honey and grain after a long day, is there?"

"No there really isn't." Sanguine replied, taking another drink from his own flagon. "Have any amazing adventures recently?"

"I may be old, but I'm not dead yet." Kane declared, taking another swig. "I haven't given up on this world yet."

"I see." He said, taking another drink. "My friend Hermaeus Mora tells me that Miraak has died. Your work I assume?"

Kane seemed to be hesistant in answering. "Yes... Mostly. Mora dealt the killing blow."

"Ah." The Daedra muttered. Then perhaps I should ask Mara what I'm about to ask you."

"What's that?" Kane asked.

"How would you like to take a job for me? I have a lucrative offer available and I think you're the kind of guy who could take it." Sanguine put on his salesman voice and started pitching the idea. "Imagine, if you can, a city of solid gold, built into the very crust of this world. A city filled with technological wonders, vast treasure troves of knowledge with which one man could understand everything in the world, and of course, enough gold and silver to satisfy the appetite of a thousand treasure hunters. All packed together beneath the surface of this world."

"Sounds... Interesting." Kane said, contemplating whether or not it was the wealth, the power, or the knowledge he wanted more. "I'm guessing you're not just talking hypothetically here, are you?"'

"No." Sanguine replied. "This city is real. A gem of dwarven engineering hidden underground, ripe for pillaging, and I have the map to get there." He pulled a piece of parchment out of his robes and showed it to him. It looked genuine, but Kane knew better then to expect something free from a Daedra.

"What's the catch? Kane asked, skeptical and knowing the nothing usually comes for free when it came to Daedra.

"There isn't one." Sanguine said, smiling. "Getting there will be hard enough."

"No, there's something else you're not telling me." The High Elf was extremely perceptive. "Not all old men lose their sight, Sanguine, and I can see you lying between your teeth."

Sanguine's own smile faded. "All right fine. It's possible..." He started off but was put off when Kane reached for a dagger around his belt. He quickly adjusted his tone so Kane knew he was being truthful. "It's possible that the defense systems in place around the city are active and from what I've heard, they are quite deadly. Some of them make the Centurions at other dwemer bases look simple. I don't know much else, but I do know this. If you want to get into that city, you're going to need help. People you can trust, people you know you can depend on even when the sky crashes down around you, or... Well, I wouldn't start reading any long books if I were you." Sanguine adjusted his robe as he stood up and passed the folded piece of parchment across the table to Kane, who stopped it with a finger. "Mead's on me Kane, I've got quite the tab here. Have fun." He smiled before exiting the establishment.

Kane opened up the map to find that he was indeed being truthful about it's authenticity because it was written in Dwarven Script. He had no idea how to read it or where it started and ended. He sighed, knowing this was going to be a long journey, and ordered a couple more rounds of Mead off Sanguine's Tab.

_This is going to end badly._ He thought to himself.

"And they say I'm mad..." Said a voice from nowhere. Kane looked up and around to see that time seemed to be slowing down before stopping. Then a red flash appeared in the middle of the room and another Daedra made his presence known. Except this one was vastly more deranged.

Sheogorath. Kane thought aloud.

"What?! Where?!" Sheogorath yelled, seemingly panicked. "Oh wait, I'm Sheogorath. Phew." He sat down. "Wow, you hang out in the most boring places. Where's the action? Where's the excitement? Where's the-"He stopped midway through thought, then continued a second later as another thought entered his patchwork mind. "Hold on, I know how to fix this." He snapped his fingers and suddenly everyone seemed to be fast-forwarding through the day. That's better isn't it?

Kane was more or less spinning as he watched the world run by. He felt extremely dizzy and sick, though that may have just been the mead, as Sanguine like his alcohol strong. "I preferred it when everything was frozen."

"Pff. You're no fun." Sheogorath snapped his fingers again and everyone stopped moving.

"What do you want, Sheogorath?" Kane said as he went back to studying the map.

"Oh, well let's see. I want a horse that can fly, a house in space, a crossbow that shoots spears, and-"

"I meant what do you want with me, right here, now! GOT IT?: Kane's feelings towards Sheogorath were complicated. Deep down, he had to admit he loved the absolute chaos that came with Sheogorath. It always made things interesting. The rest of him, however, wondered whether strangling him would get him to shut up.

"Ah I see." Sheogorath confirmed, winking to show that he actually had no clue what he was talking about but would play along anyway. "I came to ask you something. Are you completely mad?"

"Says the prince of madness." Kane muttered. "I'm guessing you have a grudge with Sanguine now?"

"Something like that." The prince replied, grinding his teeth. "But I'm more worried about you. Well, that's not entirely true..."

"You're worried about your stupid staff, aren't you?" Kane guessed. referring to the Wabbajack.

He guessed correctly. "Yeah, that's it!" Sheogorath exclaimed, flashing an appreciative smile.

"You're not getting it back." Kane said, his yellow eyes locking on Sheogorath.

"But it's mine!" He argued as though he was a little child. Kane simply blinked then looked down at the map again. "Fine, if that's how you treat your friends, maybe I should just go."

"Please do, I can feel my brain cells killing each other off with every word you say." Kane declared.

The prince of madness frowned. "Fine, but before I go, you might need this." He said, surprisingly sane and somehow infinitely more terrifying for it. He placed an object sheathed in cloth on the table.

Kane grabbed and studied it. "What in the world is this?" He asked, but received no response. Sheogorath had disappeared and time had returned to normal. He unsheathed the cloth to find a small golden pin inside. It was about the size of a lockpick and almost resembled one, but it was finely crafted, well-designed, and was made of dwarven metal. It's faded gold design was the dead giveaway. It was more of a needle then a pin, though he had no idea what it was for.

"Interesting." Kane said simply. He placed it and the map into his pocket, left a tip for the barmaiden, and stepped out of the inn. He couldn't help but to admit that he was excited. Another adventure was always welcome for him. He'd sleep on it for the night, then start off in the morning.

Something told him he'd need the rest.

* * *

The Crystal Tower

Deep in the Summerset Isles, another High Elf had a similar idea. His name was Tyr, an unimpressive name for a very impressive elf. He was a Thalmor, if his presence in the epicenter of the Aldmeri Dominion was not clear enough, and he was almost mythical among the Dominion ground forces. Some even doubted he existed, but he was very, very real. He led a squad of sixty Thalmor Soldiers in Hammerfell against an army of thirteen hundred Redguard. They lost only four men, the Redguard lost everyone. They left only one man alive and sent him off to the Redguard Capital to spread word of the might of the Dominion. No one knows for sure how Tyr overwhelmed the Redguard forces, but it was said his tactical mind was unmatched and his actual prowess in combat could defeat a thousand men alone.

Despite this, however, Tyr never truly supported the Dominion's aims. He thought of the Thalmor as a vile organization, one that lacked honor and one that lacked intent. He served his homeland, not the nation that controlled it. When the time came, he knew the Dominion would fall, and after watching the Stormcloaks overthrow the Empire Regime in Skyrim, he could feel doom on the horizon. The Thalmor had tried to convince him to lead a force in reclaiming that area but he refused, citing a lack of information as the reason, but the truth was he knew better than to challenge men who have nothing left to lose.

He could remember the day open hostilities started between the Dominion and Skyrim. It was the summer that followed Skyrim's declaration of independence. Thalmor high command had been in emergency session as the death of the emperor brought the roof down on their heads, ruining their influence over the mainland of Tamriel as infighting engulfed Cyrodill. To make matters worse, Hammerfell and Skyrim were revealed to be in negotiations with High Rock which was considering its own bid for independence, with the leaders of Daggerfall and Orsinium meeting with Ulfric Stormcloak and the leader of Hammerfell in preparations to break away.

Then, a diplomatic envoy of Breton, Nords, Orcs, Redguards, and even Dark Elves appeared in the Crystal Tower, and history began to repeat itself. Negotiations had, as Tyr predicted, gone off without a hitch. High Rock joined Hammerfell and Skyrim in independence, but what followed was worse than they could expect. This didn't just mark the fall of an empire, it marked the reformation of another. A second Daggerfall Covenant. They had one goal: Bring the Dominion to its knees. They made an "offer" to the Thalmor: Withdraw all ships from the bay of Hammerfell and dissolve the Kingdoms in Elsweyr or face annihilation at the hands of a nation that had been built for war. Naturally they thought of this as a bluff, a simple trick used to fool the weak-willed and the simple-minded, and refused. All except Tyr, who saw the conviction in the eyes of the envoy's leaders, and knew this wasn't a bluff, this was a threat. Before they left, they decided to "repay" the Thalmor for the gift they had given the Empire all those years ago.

They brought in a large bag and left it on the floor before leaving. Tyr already knew what was inside it, but he was asked to open it anyway, being senior military commander and security supervisor for the Dominion. Inside was the head of every Thalmor in Northern Tamriel, even ones stationed in Morrowind. High Elves, Wood Elves, Khajit, and anyone who was on their payroll was in that sturdy brown leather bag. That was enough to flick the light bulbs on in their heads and they rapidly gave the order to withdraw the fleets before they could be set ablaze by Hammerfell Archers, though a few weren't lucky enough to get the orders in time. Those ships burned and the screams were said to have been heard from the shores of the Summerset Isles.

Since then, Tyr had been very busy, working on planning for war with the Covenant, a war he knew would only end with the complete destruction of one side and the other side festering in the cinders of what had once been an empire. Elsweyr was in their hands for now, but that didn't mean it would stay that way. Tension was high, tempers had flared, and it seemed that the situation literally could not be any less unstable.

For once, master strategist Tyr was wrong. As he turned to leave his quarters for another planning session, a figure clad in black and red armor appeared in the doorway.

"Hello Tyr." Went the familiar voice of Sanguine, whose smiled made Tyr cringe in disgust.

"You again..." He groaned. "Why are you here, Daedra?" He noticed Sanguine wasn't disguised and that the ground was heavily singed where he stood, meaning he just left oblivion. His armor was still on as well, which was another good indication he had decided to be less theatrical, probably because unlike Kane, Tyr had no time for it.

"Can't I just drop in on an old friend?" He asked.

"No." Tyr, whose preference in equipment was mostly Ebony, reached for his sword and drew it at the Daedra's throat. "I'll ask again: What do you want?"

"Straight to the point, I love it." Said Sanguine, half-charmed and half-worried. "I'll get right to it then. You see my dear friend, I've got a very lucrative offer..."


	2. New Hiatus

Updated Hiatus

Okay, so this is hard to explain, but I'll be frank: I have no idea what I want to do with this story. I had it pretty much planned out when I started writing, but since then I've lost interest. I might rework it, do something to reengage the spark, but at this point I don't know. From now on, just consider this story to be on hiatus indefinitely. I'll talk about it when I have something I can talk about.


End file.
